Ephemeral: Dribbles of Drabbles
by The Woman on a Flaming Pie
Summary: Drabbles surrounding Hisagi Shūhei and Haruno Sakura... It was the beginning - and it was ephemeral. But those brief moments were to be cherished, for they were all that were... Prompts welcomed! Updated whenever. "He asked me to marry him." / "Why?" / "'Why' What do you mean 'why!" What an ass.
1. Beginning

_standard disclaimer for [ BLEACH and Naruto ] applies_

* * *

beGINning

.

the point of time or space at which anything begins

* * *

"You're here early, Hisagi-kun," observed the blonde who settled next to him.

He merely gave a grunt of acknowledgement before knocking back his saké. The strong alcohol would have burned on its way down, but he was well used to the sensation by now.

"Nostalgic?" his companion offered softly after ordering himself a drink.

Dark gray eyes flicked to the lone visible blue eye from where they had been staring at - but not really seeing - the container of spirits in his hand.

"Y'could say."

She had tolerated his drinking.

"More," he rasped to the bartender, lifting the bottle slightly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kira bob his head, and the two of them continued drinking in rending silence.

She hated it when he got drunk though.

Like that time when he came back to her reeking of alcohol and smoke ... when he was so inebriated that she had to slip her slender frame under his arm because he could not walk on his own ... when the buzzed grin slid off his face as he looked into her wide green eyes. Pity at his drunken state was shown in her gaze, but what had sobered him had been the sorrow and the disappointment that had pooled there.

But she was not by his side anymore. In fact, the last time he had seen her had been when she told him that she had been accepted to the Fourth Div-

The saké bottle shattered on the floor, warm droplets scattering.

"Kir-" The name died on his lips when he realized his friend was passed out on the counter of the bar.

He clenched his hands until his scarred knuckles turned white.

Maybe another time, he relented.

After all, she was not by his side anymore.

* * *

author's notes: my first. I would appreciate any and all critisim. This will be a drabble, so expect more! I hope to improve; please let me know if there is something I am doing right or wrong, and why. ^-^

English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any errors.

Also! Prompts would be appreciated, too. I am always looking for inspiration!


	2. Precedent

author's notes: thank you so much for your reviews! I can honestly say that they gave me this goofy grin when I saw them! And thank you as well to those who favorited and/or followed. And special thanks to musicmiss18 for checking all the boxes!

Here is the next one, inspired by "first".

* * *

PRECe_dent_

.

any act, decision, or case that serves as a guide or justification for subsequent situations

* * *

_"Smile, kid..."_

His dreams were dark and confusing, filled with twisted flashes of bone-white masks and disturbing grins.

The two numbers '6' and '9' swirled around in his delirium, but it was the replaying memories of the Hollow slaughtering his playmates that flooded him with gripping fear.

It was a fear that sluggishly coursed through him like a nasty poison, numbing his limbs but heightening his irrationality.

_"Smile..."_

The numbers appeared again, coating the monster that leered at him.

A whimper slipped past his lips. The Hollow was suddenly inches away from him, face to grinning mask. Its maw opened wider, exposing the void. The palpable black grew, threatening to swa-

Then, the nightmarish images dissipated like the morning sun burning away the mist. They were replaced by soft pink petals and bright green leaves.

"Shhh... Everything's going to be alright..."

.

.

.

Jerking his head up from its prostrate position, he was taken by surprise when his forehead collided with something hard. White stars blinked in and out of his vision while tears collected at the intense pain.

"Owww, if that's your thanks," groaned a young voice. "Then you can keep it."

He swung his head around - with much inward protest - and laid eyes on the strangest person he had ever seen. She was small, smaller than him, with pale skin that was only marred by the red mark on her broad forehead - that, no doubt, he was sporting as well. Huge, glimmering green eyes glared mildly at him. And - strangest of all - the little girl had a cropped mop of pink hair. Most of the rosy strands were kept from her face with a red scrap of cloth tied at the top of her head.

"Hey." Now those wide green eyes were filled with concern as she peered at him. "How are you feeling? You had a fever, so you probably shouldn't be moving around so much, y'know? I bet it had something to do with that!"

Her short finger gestured to the left side of his face; the side of his face that felt hot and swollen.

"I'm pretty sure your tattoo is infected."

His eyes widened, for someone so young, the girl was very astute, quite contrary to her empty headed coloring. But her unique pigmentation was the only bright thing about her - her yukata was faded and drab, as was her worn sash.

"Do you know how to take care of it?" he asked, speaking for the first time.

The bright girl nodded vigorously, her large eyes becoming serious. "Yup!"

"Do you have a home?"

He watched as her gaze dropped, the confidence deflating. "Um ... n-no."

"Then you can live with me," he supplied, weakly pushing himself to his feet. Her answer was not that surprising; most children did not have a home to call their own in such an impoverished section.

Green orbs grew to a size that rivaled the full moon on a clear night. "R-really?"

He nodded. "Yeah... What's your name?"

"My name is Haruno Sakura!" she declared proudly, but continued in a softer voice, "Yours?"

"Hisagi Shūhei."

A warm smile was flashed his way. "Ne, don't worry, Shū-chan. I'll take care of you!"

He could not help the frown at the emasculating nickname, but he made no move to shake off the shrimpy, smudged hand clutching his yukata.


	3. Affront

author's notes: I am so excited!

* * *

_a_FFRONT

.

to offend by an open manifestation of disrespect or insolence

[ archaic ] to front; face; look on

[ obsolete ] to meet or encounter face to face; confront

* * *

He adjusted his shirt for what seemed like the hundredth time. Tucked in the waistline of his shorts, it was conspiring to tangle in his legs while he ran.

He had taken a different route today, down the shopping district, with huge windows and sprawling sidewalks. The attention he garnered did not bother him since it was mainly women who populated this part of town. Some women would shyly avert their eyes at his shirtless form; others would send occasional appreciative glances; while some other women would blatantly ogle his glistening chest.

It was quite the ego-stroke for him.

…

And then he saw _her_... She was considerably the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. His neck snapped around so fast it cricked while his body kept running forward. She also had the best rack he had ever seen.

… She _smiled_ at _him_. And _waved_.

He raised his hand to return the gesture when he ran into something.

"Oof-!"

Or, rather, someone.

"What the hell is your problem?!"

Yes, it was definitely someone - a very pissed off someone.

"I'm so sorry," he said automatically, regretfully turning his gaze away from the beauty to the person on the ground, who unfortunately did not possess such a full figure.

She gave an unladylike snort. "Yeah, right."

"Here." He offered her his hand.

She disdainfully eyeballed the appendage before hesitantly taking it. She let go of his hand as soon as he pulled her to her feet, not so discreetly wiping her hand on the edge of her red sundress.

"Whatever." She flicked her pink hair over her shoulder in an ornery manner before marching away. "Watch where you're going next time, assbucket."

However, his altercation with the woman with pink hair was already a memory; his mind filled with the thought of a blond woman with huge breasts. He could only think, _Did_ she _see that? What would_ she _think?_

* * *

author's notes: weee! Ahem...

question: what do you think of love-triangles? Clichéd or sexy? Somewhere in between?

I enjoy love-squares and -pentagons xD


	4. Fall

I forgot to warn about AU content last chapter. This one follows chapter 1 and 2 loosely; back to young Sakura and Shū!

* * *

_fall_

.

to come by chance

[ archaic ] to begin to do

* * *

"I think that's enough, Sakura," he called up into the flash of pink amid the leaves, a small pile of sweet fruit at his feet.

A dim affirmation reached his ears.

...

It was a few moments until he heard, "Um, Shūhei?"

"What is it?"

"... I'm stuck."

"What?"

"I said I'm stuck! I can't get down!"

"I heard you the first time! What do you mean? You've never gotten stuck before."

"I know, but this time ..." Sakura's voice trailed off, uncertainty clinging to her words.

"Well, try to go back the way you went," he suggested, shaking off the irrational nervousness - after all, he was not the one stuck up several feet in the air.

"Okay..."

The proceeding sounds occurred subsequently:

A rustle of leaves.

A loud crack of a too-skinny branch.

A shriek.

"Sakura!"

...

"Wow! Who knew the ground was so soft?!"

He groaned, dazed from the sensation of the wind knocked out of him. "You didn't land on the ground, Sakura."

"Oh! Sorry, Shūhei. Are you okay?" the pink-haired girl chattered with concern while leaping off him and offering him a slightly sticky hand.

"I'm fine," he answered, brushing off her worry, but taking her hand. "Y'know, you're a lot heavier than you look."

Concern was instantly replaced with fury.

His poor shin bone exploded in pain as Sakura delivered a vengeful kick and fled.

"Ow! Sakura, wait! Come back!"

And, dammit, she took the food, too.

* * *

author's notes: becoming a beta? Is it worth it?


	5. Complement

author's notes: I see you all... Anybody have any ideas for me?

This chapter inspired by _Forrest Gump_.

* * *

**com**pl_e_m_e_nt

.

either of two parts or things needed to complete the whole; counterpart

* * *

"... Shūhei?"

The low-key murmur of his name and the slight shift of the smaller body against his roused him from his state of dozing. He nearly groaned at the disturbance but settled for a grunt of acknowledgement.

For several moments only the sound of the brittle wind could be heard battering the thin walls of their "home". The lack of noise from the usually chattering girl actually faintly alarmed him. He raised his head to concernedly look over at the pink head, meeting a vibrant green gaze.

"What are we, Shūhei?" she finally asked, trapping him with her large, viridescent eyes.

"... H-huh?"

"What are we?" she pressed. He swore he saw her eyes grow even larger at her reiteration.

With an inward sigh, he let his head drop from its strained position. His brows furrowed at her obscure question.

Obviously looking for an answer from him, Sakura sat up, taking their blanket and her body warmth with her. He suppressed the urge to shiver, immediately missing both the aforementioned.

"What do want us to be?" he returned.

He watched as a smile lit up her features.

"Peas and carrots," answered Sakura brightly in the dim light.

"What?"

"It's something Genma-kun told me. He said that when two things are well-matched they're like peas and carrots," she explained, a thoughtful crease in her abnormally large forehead. "Don't you think we're well-matched, Shū-chan?"

"Yeah," he replied absentmindedly, "And don't call me that." He frowned deeply, his last comment half-hearted as he thought. Since when did innocuous, wide-eyed Sakura hang around with that degenerate Shiranui?

"Shūhei," started Sakura, almost mockingly. "You're not listening to me."

"Sorry."

"Who do you think is who?"

He thought. "I'm carrots and you're peas."

"Why do you think that?" she asked innocently.

"... Um..." His eyes traveled down not so innocently.

"PERV!"

* * *

author's notes: prompts, anyone? Or even requests for other pairings? Hmm?


	6. Maxim of Jealousy Pt I

author's notes: big thanks to Team-Mixxed-Kiddz for reviewing every chapter!

I apologize; I meant to update on Friday. Since I work two jobs, Friday afternoon is the only time I have off, however, I had to get away.

I am here now! :3 No definition because it was a stupid one - a quote instead.

This next one was inspired by Sasu-Cakes137's prompt "jealousy".

warnings: a lot of _what_'s and usage of _italics_

* * *

**jeal**_ou_sy

_._

_"... jealousy is always born with love; it does not always die with it."_

_- Rochefoucauld  
_

* * *

"... graduating early! And I heard that he already materialized his Zanpakutō! Isn't that _amazing_, Shūhei? Isn't _he _amazing?"

"Yeah, sure," he muttered, trying to ignore the way Sakura nearly swooned, the way she clasped her slim hands to her chest, the way she looked so damn happy … happy about _him_ … who was _totally_ overrated.

…

Did he say that last part aloud?

"Byakuya-sama is _not_ overrated, Shūhei!" Sakura contested hotly.

Yes … yes, he did.

He sighed heavily, knowing that his ears would have to endure her rave about how "amazingly great" the Kuchiki heir was...

.

.

.

"I'm gonna do it."

He looked up from where he had been absentmindedly scratching at the surface of the desk, bored out of his mind after their "study session"; however, neither one of them had turned a page in several minutes.

"Do what?"

"Ask him."

His mouth quirked downward in a frown of frustration. "Who? Ask who what?"

"Byakuya-sama, of course," Sakura replied matter-of-factly.

Of _course_.

"I'm going to ask him on a date," she continued, her voice ringing with determination.

His mouth now gaped. " - ! Wh-_what_?"

"Yeah!" Her spine was now straight, her vivid green eyes lodging with his wide gaze.

He tried to reason with her. "Sakura … What-what would Kuchiki-san see in you, I mean he's a noble and you're-"

"I'm what, Shūhei?! _What_?!" she demanded, those green eyes now glossy.

His hands twitched - the urge to touch her, placate her - under his skin. "What-what I'm try to say is … is Kuchiki-san doesn't care about anyone else besides himself."

Sakura suddenly sprang to her feet. "I w-would've thought that _you_ of all people would've supported me, Shūhei," she informed him quietly.

The subtle quivering of her bottom lip caught his attention, but before he could say anything else, she was gone, the edge of her red hakama snapping in her wake.

He let out an aggravated groan and propped his head with his palms, his elbows planted on the desk. He stared at the surface; _H.S._ it said, carved.

He rubbed at his hair with frenzied hands until the dark strands emerged as an interrobang to the world.

* * *

author's notes: there **will** be a part two to this, so look out for it!

_hakama_: basically voluminous pants


	7. Maxim of Jealousy Pt II

author's notes: I cried and shamelessly snotted all day yesterday. I also donated blood in remembrance of 9/11.

I love you all. :3

Here's the continuation of the last chapter:

* * *

**jeal**_ou_sy

.

_"... __Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss._

_So full of artless jealousy is guilt,_

_It spills itself in fearing to be spilt."_

_- Shakespeare_

* * *

Faint, hesitant knocking jerked him awake - though, he had never been truly asleep, merely snagged in this limbo between conflicted consciousness and tangled dreams.

Dark gray eyes stared listlessly at the ceiling before he finally gained the will to thrust himself off his bedroll and meander over to his door. He slid the rice paper open and squinted into the late night gloom of the hallway.

"Sakura?" He rubbed his eyes, struggling to see the shadow.

"Oh, Shūhei - !"

"Oomph!" She tackled him, plastering herself to his front while he attempted to remain upright.

"G-go on," she sobbed into his chest, "Go on; s-say it."

He pulled her away with difficulty - for her strength was incredible - and peered at her tear-streaked face. "Say what?"

"'I told you so'," she blubbered before diving back to his winded torso.

He made a face, confused, but awkwardly stroked Sakura's hair, the silken strands bending with fluid ease around his roughened fingers.

"What are you talking about, Sakura?"

"Byakuya-sama," she mumbled into his chest.

He froze, his lip already curling at the mere mention of the prissy upperclassman.

"H-he rejected me," continued Sakura.

A blind fury surged from within him, but also - most curiously - a bloated feeling of satisfaction at this news.

"... Shūhei, you're squishing me..."

"Oh - sorry."

"It's fine," said Sakura automatically.

Something inside him snapped. "No, it's not fine, Sakura."

She gave him an alarmed look; then a slow, tender smile.

"Thanks, Shūhei, thanks for listening to my problems and me. I know you probably didn't want to hear about them at this ungodly hou-what are you do-"

It was supposed to be romantic - however, it was anything but.

Their foreheads bumped together, like that first time so long ago. His mouth smashed against hers, and their teeth collided startlingly.

Sakura thrashed and pulled away from him. Green eyes wide, she gaped like a fish. "Sh-wha-... I-I'm … I g-gotta go."

And she was gone, leaving his lungs empty and a bittersweet taste on his lips.

* * *

author's notes: I'm not completely happy with this one D: let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!


	8. Maxim of Jealousy Pt III

author's notes: thanks to those reviewing, and thanks to those reading

Last part - I had to wrap things up, and now it ties in with the first chapter.

* * *

**jeal**_ou_sy

.

_"All the passions that make us commit faults; love makes us commit the most ridiculous ones."_

_- Rochefoucauld_

* * *

"Shūhei..."

He jerked his neck up so fast it nearly snapped.

She was blushing delicately, twisting her sleeves nervously and looking anywhere but at him.

They had not talked for a long time - far too long in his opinion - it was not a stretch to say Sakura had been avoiding him. And it was his fault, as much as he was loathe to admit it. The days and nights he had spent berating himself, hating himself were innumerable.

For someone so brilliant, he had been hard pressed to find her - and everytime he did spot her, Sakura would immediately slip through his grasp. He had barely finished his entrance exam in time, for he had been staring so hard at the back of her pink head, willing her to turn and acknowledge him.

They had been through too much together for her to do this to him, he had thought angrily. But his anger soon dissipated, for it had always been impossible for him to remain angry at Sakura.

"Um... I-I just ... I wanted to let you know," she paused, drawing a slightly shaking hand through her roseate hair while switching her focus to someplace above and to the left of his head. "I wanted to let you know that I've been accepted by the Fourth Division... And - and, yeah..."

'Congratulations' stuck in his throat; it was a word for joy and cheer, so he merely nodded.

In an instant, Sakura's gaze met his. Surprise and something else flashed in those ever- expressive eyes of hers. But, in the next instant, it was gone and so was she.

* * *

author's notes: any questions or prompts?


	9. Beguile

author's notes: I originally wrote this piece as very raunchy but I went back and edited it to keep the rating. P: I apologize if it seems a bit choppy.

inspiration: I dated a guy who loved the food I made more than me.

Thanks for reviewing and reading! Over 1,000 views, so I made this one long(-ish).

warning: AU, suggestive situations/dialogue

* * *

be**guile**

.

to influence by trickery, flattery, etc.

to charm or divert

to pass (time) pleasantly

* * *

She rested her chin on her upturned palm, her other hand idle as it rested on the counter. The corners of her mouth twitched upwards in a beguiling smile; her lips continued to rise with each suspicious glance Shūhei sent her.

Tilting her head a little, she considered the delicious man in the kitchen and the equally yummy cookie dough that that man was currently whipping up. She watched that mixing bowl with hungry eyes; she was ready for when it would be unattended … and then, she would make her move...

"Don't even think about it, Sakura," warned Shūhei flatly, his upper arm muscles flexing pleasingly as he mixed the dough. "You can lick the bowl _after_ I'm done."

With a grand huff, she pouted - apparently deterred - but still watched out of the corner of her eye. Since her sweet tooth was denied, she figured she might as well unabashedly ogle him.

Shūhei gave her a brief bemused look before popping the cookies into the oven and then sliding the mixing bowl over to her. "Here."

Her excited bouncing could not be contained as she enthusiastically peered into the bowl. " - ! There's barely anything left!"

She pinned him with a furious glare; he only smirked and handed her the spoon. "Meanie …" she muttered childishly, but took the utensil anyway, nibbling and licking at the vestiges of the scrumptious confection. With her tongue and teeth she skillfully removed the soft dough from the spoon, slightly crestfallen that Shūhei had left so little for her. Catching said man's eye, she brightened and winked.

He rounded the counter - never once breaking eye-contact - and pulled at the spoon in her mouth, which she released with a wet pop. She felt his other hand grip her hip in a firm - but not unpleasantly so - grasp.

Her cajoling grin returned as she allowed her head to tip back to meet his gaze. She could see how his dark eyes grew even darker to the point where it was difficult for her to discern his irides. Raising her slim arms, she draped them on his higher shoulders, one hand lingering to drag across his scalp, her thumb momentarily caressing his outermost scar.

He attacked her mouth - not that she really would complain, but when she dimly heard the timer going off, she pushed against his very tempting chest.

"... Mm, Shūhei … Shūhei, Shūhei, th-the cookies …"

And he was gone so quickly she felt suddenly cold from the lack of body heat.

"I didn't burn them," came Shūhei's relieved voice as he carefully placed the sheet down. His eyes widened and he moved to intercept her but she did not care.

"Wait, Sakura - !"

"Shit!"

He gave a slightly vexed sigh as she cradled her hand closer to her body. "Let me see..."

Bottom lip sliding out, she reluctantly extended the burned appendage. It was dwarfed in comparison as Shūhei cradled it in his own calloused hands.

"Sometimes I wonder about your intelligence, Sakura," he remarked, causing her pout to deepen.

"You need to be more careful," continued Shūhei as he raised her hand to his lips and gently kissed the reddened flesh. An action to which she could not help the girlish giggle and the subtle glance as she peered up at him between her eyelashes.

"Shū …" she started, her voice becoming throaty yet still retaining a seemingly innocent pitch. "What would you do … if I told you my tongue also got burned?"

Bewilderment flickered briefly in his gaze but soon vanished - replaced by something much more unadulterated. He moved nearer, almost touching but not quite. His face loomed over hers.

"First," he began, his own voice becoming husky, "I would wonder as to _how_. Second, I would have to make sure you're okay..."

She let him in right away, sealed at the mouth. She revelled the feeling of his tongue slowly nursing her own as she collapsed against Shūhei's more solid frame. Her hands wandered, tracing the defined muscles of his shoulders and arms while her own tongue began to compete with his. She felt him tug at the hem of her top before he gripped her wrist with one hand while the other heedlessly pressed her against his torso.

"Not so fast, Sakura," growled Shūhei. "Give the cookies time to cool."

She turned her face to the side, abashed that she had been caught.

He chuckled at her obvious chagrin. The vibrations carried over to her, causing warmth to shoot throughout her body despite her annoyance at his amusement.

She sent him a mild glare. "Well? What do you want to do in the meantime?"

A wolfish grin drew her attention to the '69' tattoo on his cheek. "I have some ideas."

* * *

author's notes: I have a poll!


	10. Innocence

author's notes: Shūhei is a mixture of himself in _Bleach_ and Kazeshini while in the shinobi-verse.

Thank you for reading and reviewing!

* * *

**inn**_oce_nce

.

simplicity; absence of guile or cunning; naïveté

lack of knowledge or understanding

* * *

He never had thought of himself as innocent.

...

So when he saw her, he sneered. He sneered and scoffed.

Surely this little girl could not be a shinobi. Flawless skin, glossy pink hair, wide bright green eyes, walked - no, all but danced into his crime-infested village, her dainty footsteps delicate and full of grace.

Yet she was with the other shinobi who looked like shinobi, a thick cloak over her petite frame and a flash of engraved metal on her forehead.

"Sakura" one of the actual shinobi had called her. He inwardly contemned her.

They must have lowered their standards considerably if she got to carry the title of shinobi. She probably did not even know how to figure her way out of a fight.

... And she had the audacity to look upon this cesspool of a community with pity. His scowl deepened.

"We're looking for someone," a real shinobi began to the bartender.

The old man just glanced up at the group before returning to his wiping of his grimy counter with an equally grimy rag.

"We have money," supplied another real shinobi, withdrawing a hefty sac from within the folds of his cloak and setting it down. The room went silent; the melodious clinking caught everyone's attention. It was the promise of several meals or a night filled with purchased pleasure. Debts could be paid, lives could be extended.

"Who?" finally came the grunt.

"A man by the name of Seijitsuna Jin."

The grizzly bartender swallowed loudly, beady eyes on the bulging bag of money, on the shinobi, on the entrance.

"Him," he eventually said, paired with an indicating gesture with his chin.

The man who had just entered the establishment froze. Suddenly the man was surrounded by the shinobi and the pink-haired female.

"Seijitsuna Jin, you are to be brought to justice for your crimes against the Land of Fire."

Damn, even her voice was so un-shinobi-like, soft and sweet-sounding.

"No!" roared the male with a slightly insane - but still fearful - glint in his eyes. With a bang, dark, thick smoke erupted into the atmosphere.

He heard several curses, and joined with some of his choice words as the smoke stung his eyes. He, along with many other patrons, stumbled out of the bar to the main road where the shinobi were confronting their target.

Save for a few intermittent coughs, the showdown was silent.

His eyes still smarted, faintly obscuring his vision. So when a hand reached out to him, he was unprepared.

"I have a hostage!" declared the man, arm around his neck.

He wriggled, only to stop when he felt the cold touch of metal bite at the highly sensitive skin on his neck.

The shinobi froze; green eyes softened.

"Please," she spoke, her slender hand raising in a non-threatening gesture, "Let him go. It's not necessary to involve innocents."

He wanted to snort at her obviously ironic statement. No one in this town was innocent.

"Stay back!" shouted the man.

She had been fluidly approaching them, her steps slow and gestures placating.

He struggled again at an increase of pressure fueled by desperation, but stopped again when he felt a line of blood well at his neck.

He saw the concern in her eyes - saw it, and wanted nothing to do with. He wanted to turn away from those haunting green orbs ... but feared his demise by decapitation.

"Enough," uttered one shinobi, his face excessively scarred. "Killing a kid will just add to your crimes, Seijitsuna."

He felt the blade at his throat tremble, then saw the eyebrows of another shinobi raise above his sunglasses. "He's - "

Why could he not look away?

Those green eyes narrowed, astounding him by the new look in the gaze. Sharpened like twin pieces of green flint, they held a deadly ruthlessness coupled with the flutter of their owner's cloak and twitch of the hand.

Behind him, he felt the suddenly weighty tug of the man against his neck, but the arm had gone slack and he violently wrenched himself away, twisting and landing heavily on his butt.

A second body fell.

"Nice aim, Sakura-san," commented a shinobi around a senbon needle.

She shrugged, as though taking a life was objective. Her gaze was now jaded as she - not even glancing at him - walked over to the fallen man and crouched, sticking a gloved hand in the man's mouth.

"Our quarry was going to commit suicide with a toxin encased in his tooth," she explained as she withdrew her hand and presented said object. "Thank you, Yamashiro-senpai, for reading his intentions and cementing my suspicions."

"I bet Morino-san's gonna be disappointed," the senbon-user said jokingly.

"At least we have the body," replied the heavily scared shinobi.

Attention was drawn to the pink-haired female as she crushed the tooth between her thumb and index finger, and then lit up her hand with a faint blue glow. It would have been a pretty trick if not for the serious frown upon her young face.

"Namiashi-senpai has a point. Though this particular poison would have destroyed any evidence within the remains given the chance." She stood easily and brushed her hands as if perfunctorily removing what she had committed.

So that human being had become "remains" so soon. Though he had been used as a shield at one point by that man and held no love, he was still shaken by the impersonal deportment.

"Guess it was a good thing then... Though, I think you scarred the boy."

As if suddenly remembering he was there, she looked over at him, worry clouding her gaze.

Was she bipolar? How could she go from preaching about saving lives to taking them to being concerned about his?

She offered him her hand, stripped of its leather glove. He studied it: slim fingers, porcelain-like skin, but deceptively calloused and dotted and raised with many scars.

"Are you okay?"

His mouth twisted bitterly in a sneer that hid his fear. He batted aside that hand - that _murderous _hand - and stood on his own, albeit a little weakly.

"Hey, kid, she just saved your life - "

"No, it's fine," she interrupted, her face closing off. "Let's seal up the corpse and go home."

For a moment, the shinobi stared at him and he wanted to look away but that would mean he would glimpse that dead man.

"Very well, let's go," ordered the gnarled male and they turned away.

He was silent as he watched them operate. In one soul-rattling moment, cold, unlit eyes met his, and he arduously pushed his stomach back down.

She was the last to leave. Her back was already facing him when she studied him over her shoulder. "I'm sorry," was all she said.

He never had thought of himself as innocent - never until someone with pink hair showed him just how wrong he was.

* * *

author's notes: prompts, anyone?


	11. Happiness

warnings: AU-ish, sadness

* * *

**happ**iness

.

_"Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad."_

_- Longfellow_

* * *

"Excuse me … Detective Hisagi?"

He turned from his conversation with his superior to see an assistant hovering at the door jam.

"Yes?"

"The hospital called - "

His semblance lightened. "Is my witness awake?"

The aide shifted uneasily and refused to meet his gaze. "Er … no, sir. Actually - actually, it's your wife, sir."

…

He knocked anxiously at the door, ignoring the pitying look the nurse gave him. When no answer from within the office was heard, his fingers drifted down to the doorknob.

The door was yanked open violently.

"What-what-what?!" demanded the woman, half-stringent, half-hysterical. At the sight of him, she lost all her intensity - her eyes a muted shade, her cheeks a blanched hue.

She turned away from him, retreating further into her unilluminated office and wrapping her arms around her thin body.

He crossed the threshold, reaching out to her.

"What - " Her voice cracked, and she took a deep - but wavering - breath. "What are you doing here, Shūhei?"

She was rigid against him as he gently pulled her to his chest.

"What happened, Sakura?" he asked softly.

Her temper flared. "Nothing, goddammit! I'm happy!"

"'Happy'?" he echoed.

"Yes! Happy! I'm happy, happy … s-so happy, Shūhei..." Her fists gripped his uniform tightly below where her tears dampened it.

She trembled, her frame struggling. "Ino … Ino's pregnant. I'm happy for her."

"Sakura …" he breathed, but said nothing more - only held her as she cried, repeating the word 'happy' in between her sobs.

* * *

author's notes: suggestions for me? Yes? Something not so depressing, maybe?

remember: I have a poll! (Do whatever with that info that you deem necessary.)


	12. Compunction

author's notes: thank you much to everyone supporting this story! We're approaching **2,000** views - woo!

dedicated to **Yuuki-Hime 2097**, I am sorry that it is very vague though.

* * *

c_o_m**punc**t_io_n

.

a feeling of uneasiness or anxiety of the conscience caused by regret for doing wrong or causing pain

any uneasiness or hesitation about the rightness of an action

* * *

"_Eeeurrg_ … Shūhei," she all but whined pathetically.

"I'm sorry, Sakura." He tried to sooth her, raising their joined hands to his lips to kiss her faintly sweaty skin.

"... For what?"

He caught her nonplussed glance thrown at him out of the corner of her slightly bloodshot eyes. "I did this to you."

She quickly opened her mouth to reply but at that moment a great surge lifted the floor beneath them and she closed her mouth just as quickly - only to turn and aim for the toilet bowl.

Grimacing at the sound of her retching, all he could do was pull back her hair and continue to let her crush his hand for her.

There was a lull in the heaving of ocean and her. His knees were starting to ache from where they were in contact with the floor of the small bathroom. He could tell she was getting exhausted, and it physically hurt him to see her so miserable.

Her grip - though still considerably tight - trembled from its position wrapped around his larger hand. Through her rigid grasp he could feel the fluttering of her pulse and the pounding of her blood through her veins.

"Sa - "

She snapped. "Oh my god! Just shut up! Shut up, Shūhei, shut up!"

At the sight of his impression of a puppy that had been smacked on the nose, her previously piqued green eyes quieted.

"Oh, no, no, no, no! Shūhei, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean any of what I said. It's just that with the seasickness and the morning sickness tag teaming me - oh, I'm so sorry, Shūhei. I love your voice; I love _you_, Sh-_bblaaaaagh!_"

He scrambled to catch her hair before any vomit got on it, and he once again let his hand be pressed into a bloodless nub.

* * *

author's notes: how does one accurately spell the act of vomiting? xD

Thanks a bunch to those that voted on my poll! So far, **Byakuya/Sakura** is in the lead. Want to _change_ it? Want to _ensure_ that it happens? **Vote now!**


	13. Payphone

warning: AU content, sadness

inspiration: a story my grandmother - bless her soul - told me, as well as the song

Thank you all for your support! And thanks to those who voted!

* * *

Songwriting credit to Benjamin Levin, Adam Levine, Ammar Malik, Daniel Omelio, Johan Schuster, Cameron Jibril Thomaz

.

_P__a__yph__o__ne_

_._

"_You can't expect me to be fine …"_

* * *

The metallic buttons mocked him, their etched numbers filled with chipping black paint. He held the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder, the hard plastic jammed against the bendable cartilage and the unyielding collarbone. The droning dial tone was so loud in his ear, and his finger hovered over those numbers.

His dark gaze flickered to his other hand. He uncurled his sweaty fist, revealing a marked palm. The numbers there - hastily scribbled in smearing blue ink - were smudged. His heart was so heavy against his ribcage.

Was that a nine or a four? Three or eight?

His finger shook as he ploughed through the dialing, a snippet of courage of unknown origin surfacing. Part of him hoped it was the wrong number - part of him pleaded it was the right one. Part of him hoped she was not there; another part hoped she was.

It rang, once, twice, and in the middle of the third someone picked up.

_"Good morning!_" answered a cheerful feminine voice. _"How may I be of assistance?_"

"Hello - " He cringed, his voice was rough and it cracked on the last syllable. "I-I'm … I wanted to know if Sakura - Haruno Sakura is there?"

A trickle of sweat made its way in between his ear and the phone, the tickling sensation uncomfortable. But he dared not switch the phone to his other ear, lest the woman say something in the middle of the action.

_"Um … Let me check, yes?"_

He heard indistinct murmurs, the sounds - not words - lost even though he tried to press the phone further into his ear. His lungs begged for air but he denied them - it was suddenly too quiet on the other end.

An intake of breath, something one does before speaking.

His hand - now gripping the phone - tightened its grasp; he was faintly surprised the plastic had not shattered by now.

_"Hello? This is Haruno Sakura..._ Hello_?"_

He hung up.

* * *

"_... it's all wrong …"_

_- Payphone by Maroon 5 featuring Wiz Khalifa_

* * *

author's notes: feedback, yeah? Maybe some prompts?

reminder: the _poll_ is now tied - **Byakuya/Sakura** and **Renji/Sakura** are _both_ in first place! **Act now!**


	14. Flop

author's notes: apparently, there are more fans of ByaSaku than there are ShūSaku - ?

inspiration: personal experience ... unfortunately

thanks for all the support!

* * *

_fl_op

.

to dispose (oneself) in a heavily negligent manner

* * *

_E string..._

His thumb gently fell over the steel string, the calloused skin evident of a dedicated musician. A rich, deep tone issued from the guitar, and with only the slightest adjustment, he moved on down to the next string.

_A string..._

A dissatisfied frown pulled downward at the corners of his mouth at the obviously flat tone. He sighed a weary sigh; he should have expected it. His A string was always flat, no matter what precautions he made to preserve the sound. Though easily rectified, it was troublesome to continuously tune the same string.

With carefully calculated twists and turns, the rebellious string was tightened to perfect pitch.

_D string..._

"BARRACK!"

His finger jerked and the string snapped against the fret board, creating a jarring and discordant sound.

"BARRACK! BARRACK! BARRACK!"

His eye twitched, but he calmly placed his guitar down and out of his way. Eyeballing - nearly glaring at - the cage across the room as he strode purposefully, he almost fell flat on his face after tripping on a lounging furry body.

Kazeshini _ferociously_ swiped needle-sharp claws at his ankles before going back to sleep. He rolled his eyes at the feline, but winced as a wolf-whistle pierced the air. He saw Kazeshini's black ears fold back, suggesting that the cat was not as lazy as he previously thought.

"Tobi's a pretty bird. Tobi's a good bird."

He loomed over the cage, the brainless orange bird chirruping away.

"TOBI'S A PRETTY BIRD. BARRACK!"

His scowl turned murderous and his eyes gleamed with half-madness. An insistent meow emerged from the cat ramming its head at his shins, forcing him to look down at the pale blue eyes of his cat.

Kazeshini meowed again, this time licking its lips.

He smiled; Kazeshini purred. Tobi was quiet.

* * *

_E string..._

Perfect.

_A string..._

Flat, but that did not ruin his good mood.

_D string..._

Perfect.

_G string..._

"Shūhei?"

Even better.

"Yeah?"

_B string..._

"Have you seen Tobi?"

The string twanged and slapped against the fret board _again_. Kazeshini dug its claws into his leg, pinning him with a cold blue gaze, warning him.

"Tobi...? Um - "

Kazeshini was now drawing blood. It was a little distracting and somewhat disturbing as to how much blood the feline could coax out. He knew that if Kazeshini was going to go down, the crafty cat would make sure he would come with.

" - Did you look under the bed?"

* * *

author's notes: silly Shū! Tell me what you think. And give me prompts, please!

plug - I have a new story - endplug.


	15. Umbrella

author's notes: terribly late. In all actuality, I meant to post this around Halloween.

warning: AU content

inspiration: personal experience

* * *

come _rain_ or shine

.

regardless of circumstances

* * *

He stared outside, the clouds almost as dark as his eyes. Seated next to the window, the warmth of the café combated the chill from the other side of the glass.

His shoulders were hunched - the anxiety clear in his posture - as he rested his forearms on the table before him. Caged loosely in his hands was a rapidly cooling coffee; he took no notice of the steadily decreasing temperature and continued to stare - for the chair on the other side of the table remained empty.

Beyond the pane of glass where the heavens spat upon, a lone discarded cup rolled around in the parking lot. His eyes followed each arc the cup made, pushed by the wind, for lack of anything else to do. He shifted his body slightly, the cold finally sinking its way into his bones as the minutes squirmed by.

With yet another sigh - he had stopped counting a long time ago - he listlessly scanned the bustling, laughing, warm crowd of people on his other side. Seeing no one he recognized, he sighed again, planting his jaw on a curled fist while the other hand languidly swirled the cool liquid in his paper cup.

What was he thinking? Like _she_ would actually go out with _him_. She probably felt sorry for him, and said _yes_ out of the goodness of her kind - and pitying - heart. Honestly, he should just leave now, it is not like she was going to come anyway. So why bother waiting any longer?

"_Excuse me_! Coming through, for God's sake, can't you people _move_?!"

He jolted at the familiar voice, spilling the now frigid coffee on the small table. He panicked at the sight. He had to clean up the mess - she would not want to sit with him if he had just sloshed his drink all over the place. Grabbing a fistful of paper napkins, he hurriedly sopped up the puddle.

Great, now he had a bunch of damp napkins. Was she going to think he was a slob-?

"Shūhei!"

The crowd parted for the petite pink-haired woman wielding an obnoxiously orange umbrella. How the hell did he miss that?

"Sakura - " He tried to stand, only to bang his knees hard on the underside of the table.

She smiled and giggled at his attempt.

He would gladly do it again.

"Sit, please, Shūhei," she told him with a lowering gesture with her hand. He obeyed, of course. She leaned the handle of her umbrella against the edge of the table and settled herself across from him.

She slid her hands over the newly wiped tabletop and held his free hand. "I'm so sorry I'm late, Shūhei. To be honest, I didn't think you'd still be waiting for me."

A cliched comment rose unbidden to his tongue but his mouth refused to work. Sakura was holding his hand. Willingly. She had to like him, right? Even though he spilled his drink, carried a wad of used napkins, and acted like a fool.

His throat suddenly turned dry as the sheer contrition in her mesmerizing green gaze hit him full force.

She squeezed his hand. "I would've called, too, to tell you I was running late. But I lost my phone in my car when I had to brake all of a sudden. There was this horrible car crash. With the rain and all, the roads get kinda slippery - "

He now gripped her hands fervently. "Are you alright?" he demanded, leaning over the table to search her face.

At this action Sakura widened her eyes but she swiftly replaced the startled expression with a touched smile. "Yes, Shūhei, I'm fine." She closed what little distance existed between them and softly pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth. "Thank you for your concern."

"A-a-ah ... just as long as you're s-safe," he stuttered. He was not cold any longer, the blooming heat in his face and neck took care of that.

Sakura was still smiling and their hands were still locked when his gaze wandered and landed on the garish umbrella. He nodded his head to the orange object.

"Is that ... is that Uzumaki-san's?"

Sakura gave a wry chuckle. "How did you know?"

He smiled in return. "The red and green toads were a big giveaway."

.

.

.

"It's still raining," he observed as they stood under the cafe's tiny awning outside.

"Ya think so?"

He glanced down, meeting the puckish gaze of the woman. Sakura was huddled next to him, her delicate hand tucked within the crook of his elbow while the other hand twirled the ostentatious umbrella.

"Ready to run?"

He frowned. "'Run'? What about the umbrella?"

Sakura just laughed. Her hand slid down the length of his arm, grasped his hand, and pulled him from under the shelter of the awning and into the storm.

The rain showered in his eyes, obscuring his vision slightly, but he could still hear Sakura laughing. He reasoned that he would not mind being in the rain a little longer.

* * *

author's notes: do not fall for it, Shūhei! I do not like this one. Anyway, **I have been working on a new story** (crossover, of course) **so be on the lookout for it!** -endplug-


	16. Demur

author's notes: más for you all. Thanks for all of the favorites, follows, and the occasional review! :3

warnings: short

* * *

de**mur**

.

to raise objections or show reluctance

* * *

"I'm not incapacitated, you know."

"I know."

"I can take care of myself."

"I know."

Though mildly annoyed with him, she laid her hand on his cheek. "You don't _have to_ stay."

He covered her hand with his larger one. "But I want to."

She frowned. "You have work to do."

"You're more important, Sakura," he insisted, kissing her brow and smoothing away the wrinkles.

"You can't do this for the next eight months."

Shūhei smiled and placed his other hand on her hip, gently drawing her closer to him. "No, not _every_ day."

"Shūhei ..." she began but could not seem to force herself to convince him. Maybe it was the way he looked at her. Maybe it was the way his thumb delicately dragged over her abdomen. Maybe it was the way he turned his head and started to kiss her palm before his lips made their way to her wrist where they discovered her quickening pulse with a smirk.

"_Fine_," she grumbled. "Just as long as it isn't _every_ day."

"I love you."

"I know."

* * *

author's notes: she is prego, in case you did not know. The previous one I abhorred - it just got shittier towards the end with each word.


	17. Temper

author's notes: thanks for all the views! Try to **re**view, yeah?

We learn that heat symbolizes sexuality.

warning: what is romance without some angst?

* * *

**tem**per

.

to produce internal stresses in by sudden cooling from low red heat

* * *

The world was gray, the horizon a frayed bar of haze. The sun dared not shine through the encompassing clouds. It was barely raining - she probably would not have realized it if not for the faint droplets on the window inches from her face. She slowly placed her hand on the cool pane, fingertips first until her palm kissed the chilly glass.

The window - a mere sheet of glass that separated her from the world - sucked what little warmth remained in her hand. From her proximity, it drew from her body as well.

But a pair of arms appeared, anchoring her to heat, as they suddenly wrapped around her waist. Her other hand raised to rest on the lean forearms, her fingers running along the defined muscles. A hot chest gently pressed against her back; she could feel the blaze of bare skin and the angles of hard torso.

She need not turn around, the reflection clear this close to the window.

He dipped his head, his mouth skimming - _sizzling_ - the delicate shell of her ear before kissing - _scorching_ - the pale column of her neck. She shivered within his hold, the conflicting sensations - _temperatures_ - wreaking havoc upon her body.

"Shūhei ..." she started, her breath fanning out and fogging up the window before them. It was still cold outside though, and the white obscurity quickly faded.

He nuzzled her pulse where it jumped.

"I have to go, Shūhei..."

His arms fell from her frame and it was cold again - cold all over.

She turned, now no longer able to see him in the window's reflective surface. His eyes - where they had previously smoldered with the slow burn of ashes - flashed with the gray of cold steel. His eyes - which had rivalled the thrill of a lightning storm - were solid and dangerous on her.

She extended her hand - her blueing hand - to cradle his jawbone. "Shūhei-!"

Intercepting her hand before it could touch his face, he burned her flesh in his tight grasp. "Why are you still here?" he demanded dispassionately. "I thought you had to _go_."

"Shūhei!" she cried. "Don't do this - "

"Me? You're the one _leaving_, Sakura."

Her hand began to tingle from the calidity; her knees quivered from under his austere glare. Shoving aside her fear, her spine straightened and she snatched her hand from him. "Fine," she sniped before striding to the door.

The door slammed shut and she fisted her still warm hand on her chest. Her heart beat a little faster and a little stronger for the lingering heat.


	18. Distraction

author's notes: sorry? Welcome and thank you to those who have joined recently. Remember that I am always open to prompts!

* * *

di**strac**t_ion_

.

that which divides the attention, or prevents concentration.

* * *

"Jesus - !" muttered Sakura, clenching the car door and interior tightly. She swiveled her head to the driver to her left and pinned him with a mildly furious green gaze. "Pay attention to the road, Shūhei!"

"Sorry..." he offered.

He really was - sorry, that is. Really ... not really, maybe just a little bit.

She simply raised a skeptical rosy eyebrow before crossing her legs and tapping a random rhythm on the seat with slender fingers.

"Ah," came the dried and garbled noise from Shūhei's throat. He tried to keep his eyes on the road, his line of sight between his fists securely gripping the steering wheel - he really tried.

"Yes?" came the expectant prompt from Sakura, her lined eyes widened in his direction.

Shūhei exhaled in some semblance of control, albeit shakily. Surely she could not not know what she was doing? What she was doing to him? With that dress, with that slit running up the length of her leg? The thin fabric of her dress straddling her pale thigh and knee, falling, exposing more and more skin?

"Shū...?"

"... Yeah?" he managed to squeeze out as he made a u-turn.

"We aren't going to the party, are we?"

He shook his head, attempting to restrain the twitch in the foot over the gas pedal.

Sakura blew out an amused breath. "At least, this time ..."

Gray eyes flitted to her lips briefly before dragging their way back to the asphalt and traffic.

"This time, we made it out the door," he finished for her.

* * *

author's notes: yet another shameless plug - I have a new story posted! Check it out if you have not. If you have (thank you very much!), watch out for the release of the second chapter called The Darkest of Marks in the near future!


	19. Endurance

author's notes: INSPIRE ME, PEOPLE. Have a nice day.

* * *

en**d_u_r**_a_nce

.

the fact or power of bearing pain, hardships, etc.

lasting quality

* * *

A shadow loomed over Sakura as she dragged a long blade of grass in a stream. Faintly annoyed at the sudden blockage of spring sunlight, she glanced up and half-pushed her small body up from its prone position on the ground.

Her lips turned downward in a frown-pout combination. "Shū-chaaan~" she whined.

"Stop calling me that," came the expected retort.

Sakura's mouth started to lean to the pout side of the spectrum, as per the usual and habitual interaction of theirs.

"'Sides," Shūhei continued to say, a triumphant smirk on his face while shrugging his shoulders to draw her attention to the sticky sweets tightly fisted in his hands, "I have food."

At those magical words - so rarely heard - Sakura scrambled up, unwittingly letting the water claim the blade of grass and carry it down and away from the brightened young girl. Sakura clasped her hands together in one joyous clap over her chest, oblivious to the grass stains on her yukata and the grass imprints on her limbs.

"Sit back down," Shūhei ordered without any real edge - it was not like she would even listen to him in the first place - but, to his surprise, Sakura jumped around only a couple times before wiggling into a seiza.

He blinked. She looked up at him, frustration and exasperation flaring in her green eyes and raised eyebrow and that twist in one corner of her mouth. Sometimes - in fact, times like these, the briefest of moments - he believed that Sakura had seen more years than he... But that could not be true, he had dismissed each time, for this girl was so skinny in frame that petite was too inappropriate of a word.

"Shū-chan~" she sang to his scowl. "C'mon, Shūhei! Let's eat!"

He lowered himself to the grass before her and offered the skewers.

"Dango," she whispered reverently.

Shūhei shook his head at her reaction but smiled nonetheless, plucking one for himself and bringing it up to his lips. "Fresh, too!" he remarked around a mouthful of the sweet.

Sakura savored the sweet flavor and tang of the dango, delicately nibbling in contrast to the eager eating of Shūhei, who was already making his way onto another row. Carefully and thoroughly cleaned, the gnawed wooden skewer lay abused before Shūhei's knees. She sucked on her own, pensive - it was not until her lips and tongue had finished and the last of the dango had slipped slightly hurriedly down her throat that she gingerly picked up Shūhei's long forgotten skewer at the one end where it was driest.

She held them side-by-side, in thought. A crease appeared in her broad forehead, and she waved the sticks idly.

"Shūhei?"

"Mmh?"

One of her eyebrows dipped in annoyance, but she pressed on: "Where'd you get the money for all of this dango?"

He swallowed as he shook his head and heartily gulped down a breath of air in his pause. "Stole 'em."

"'Stole them'?" Sakura repeated, the skewers drooping in her now limp grip. Her eyes shot open, but Shūhei paid no attention – for syrup was dripping down his forearm at the moment.

"Yeah," he mumbled around his arm as he sucked up the sticky trail.

Sakura's eyelashes fluttered rapidly before her eyebrows snapped down sharply. "No!" she cried, throwing one skewer at him.

It plinked off his forehead to fall to the grass. Had it been heavier it might have done some sort of damage. But the only reaction Sakura got was severe confusion as Shūhei looked up at her.

She brandished the other stick like a weapon. "You don't _steal_, Shūhei. It's not _right_. Whoever made this dango worked really hard on it. You have to apologize! C'mon, we're going right now!"

.

.

.

He cleared his throat nervously. He stood in front of a stand, the scent of dango rolling thick to entice customers. It was the very same stand that happened to be missing some sticks of dango.

Half-hidden in the shadows of barrels off to the side, Sakura beamed and gave him a thumbs-up in encouragement.

He smiled weakly back at her before inching closer to the stand. "Um - E-excuse me - ?"

The baker turned around with an increasingly foul atmosphere - he was much larger than Shūhei remembered. "You!" He advanced with tree trunks of legs while Shūhei attempted to stumble a retreat and to stammer out apologies. "You're the one! Thieving brat!"

"Shūhei, look out!" he heard Sakura cry out, but he was frozen under the shadow of a heavy hand. He could not look away; the hand grew closer and he braced himself for the impact…

But it was not the impact he had been expecting.

"Oomph - !" He tumbled to the ground, more limbs than he owned clamoring. He must have hit his head, for he was seeing cotton candy. It was everywhere – in his eyes, his nose, his mouth – nevermind, it was not cotton candy, just hair.

"Hiya!" chirped Sakura on his torso. "That was really stupid, Shū-chan. If taking a hit means you're a man, I think you should be a woman. You'd be smart like me – oh! What's this? Silly Shū-chan. You have syrup on your face. Let me clean it off for you!"

She ignored his indignant, wordless splutters and pulled the sleeve of her yukata over her fingers, wetting it with her spittle.

"S…akura," he wheezed as she scrubbed at his face. "You haven't gotten any lighter."

"Hey - !"

"Two!" bellowed the baker, "Two thieving brats!"

"Uh-oh," said Sakura under her breath before scrambling off Shūhei and pulling him to his feet and tugging at his hand. "C'mon, slowpoke! Unless you wanna get caught!"

"No way!" he assured and ran, taking the lead – his legs being longer than hers – and pulling the girl with him, their grip sweaty but strong.

* * *

author's notes: just curious, but what music do you listen to while writing and/or reading fanfiction?

(progressive) house for me. It helps me to keep going. Or 90's R&B when I am writing angst-y stuff to get in the mood.


	20. Dependence

author's notes: two months? Fuck. Um, there will be an accompanying part for this later that will focus more on the actual prompt. This can be also seen as a sequel of sorts for the first chapter.

universe: Seireitei.

inspiration: **brokenmaelstrom**'s non-serious prompt _"addict"_.

dedication: **brokenmaelstrom**.

warning: therapist!Sasuke and feels.

* * *

de**pen**d_e_nce

.

subordination or subjection

* * *

"..."

"..."

"You're not listening to me."

"..."

"Usually you're the one to carry on one-sided conversations."

"..."

"... Sakura."

"... Not too fun, is it, Sasuke?" She could not resist the chance to jab even as her attention was elsewhere.

"Hn," he grunted.

She rolled her eyes at him, but those eyes soon left and remained fixed over his shoulder.  
He half-turned on his stool and captured the scene behind him with a glance - less than a second, he did not need much more. He leveled his gaze with her, whose crossed foot was bouncing up and down under their small table.

She made an irritated noise in her throat that was barely heard over the bright ruckus of the bar behind him. Taking a measured sip of the alcohol before them, he waited for her to explode.

And explode she did, albeit in a muted hiss as she leaned over the table and into his face. "I don't know how Matsumoto-fukutaichō got her rank with those _things_ in the way. If she'd actually trained she wouldn't have such a high fat percentage."

Sasuke regarded her coolly. "You must be really jealous if you're using science as an insult."

She flicked a particularly mangled straw wrapper at him. "Shut up, Sasuke... And I'm not 'jealous'."

His dark brows twitched upward in a silent, _Oh, really?_

Surprisingly, her cheeks colored, vivid enough to be seen in the semi-gloom. "Well, I - it's ... not what you think," she said, fidgeting in her seat.

"Tch. Just talk to him already."

Appalled at and shocked by his - correct - suggestion, she quickly blurted out, "He won't remember me."

She received a pointed look, and twirled a finger in her hair. "Okay, maybe he'll recognize me aesthetically-speaking, but..."

Sasuke braced his elbows on the tabletop and placed his mouth before his bridged hands.

"But," she continued, "I was a different person around him. I never showed him who I was _really_... I didn't feel like I needed to - like, Shūhei made everything more simple. I didn't have to be this complex being with obligations, split loyalties, and even more complex relationships. Together, there was nothing else."

"You're blaming me ... and the dead-last."

"What? _No_ - well, I guess, sorta. I mean, if we hadn't found each other, Sasuke, things probably would've been a lot different... He asked me to marry him."

"_Why?_"

"'_Why?_' What do you mean '_why?_'!"

"You're so annoying ... especially like this."

"What do you mean 'like this'?!"

His expression soured. "Are you just going to repeat my words?"

"Answer the damn question, Sasuke!"

"You're annoying when you're unhappy. So - if you're telling the truth - marry him and be happy."

"... I _think_ you just complimented me, Sasuke."

"... No - "

"Yes! Yes, you did! You said you can't stand me being unhappy!"

"_No_, that is _not_ what I said - "

"Oh, Sasuke, this has been the most meaningful conversation we've had in decades!"

Seeing that there was no way for him to convince her otherwise, he pouted in his special brooding sort of way.

She rubbed his forearm soothingly. "Don't worry, Sasuke, I won't marry Shūhei until after we find Naruto."

He raised an eyebrow, causing her to realize what she had said.

"I - I m-mean I'll talk to Sh-Shūhei," she squeaked with a nervous laugh, her blush brighter than her hair. "Not m-m-marry!"

"Keh," said Sasuke, shaking off her hand and leaning back. "Whichever makes you happy."

* * *

author's notes: I am rather fond of the concept of Team 7. ;3 There will be another chapter of Heartlines ... sometime. Erm, I have a tumblr: womanonaflamingpie. Oh look! Spellcheck knows it, too! lol :3


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